


Midnight

by L122ytorch



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L122ytorch/pseuds/L122ytorch
Summary: Liz has some fun with herself.





	1. Chapter 1

It was hard to focus on anything, especially with Red's cologne hovering in her personal space. The words he spoke clung to her like velcro and when she recalled them in her waking or sleeping dreams, she could feel the vibration beneath each syllable. She could see his lips form around each word, tasting the sounds before he let them go. It haunted her to no end that she would never get to savor those lips. 

Liz couldn't help but wonder if Red knew...if he'd considered how softly her fingers would trail down his face, how intently her eyes would study and memorize his features, how effortlessly she could both consume him and be consumed by him. It had to be better than the stress-ridden, solitary life that he led. Sure, he had ten thousand connections, but he let very few get close. Especially as a profiler, it was so effortless for Liz to get inside his head. He surprised her often, but she knew his foundation, what drove him, what made him angry, happy... 

She couldn't shake the image of him smiling at her with a green blue glint in his eye that sent shivers down her spine. At times it felt as though she could take his warmth, his security, his devotion, and wrap it around her like a blanket. 

There was never an intention on Liz's part to go home and melt into thoughts of Red, but the night certainly progressed that way. She came home exhausted, her clothes gumming against the dry sweat on her skin. She smelled like the outdoors, and her limbs felt like lead weights from having run after a suspect that day. Longingly she eyed her bed, but knew that if she so much as touched it, she'd be asleep...

Lately Liz had been falling asleep either fully clothed or with lights on in her apartment. Dishes were piling up, laundry needed to be done, hell, even the succulents she'd bought to decorate the lonely kitchen window sill ended up dead; and it's no easy task to kill a succulent. 

The job was taking more out of Keen than she'd ever anticipated. Stress...and even depression...seemed like a living entity that pulsed just beneath the surface, always within reach. While her career was doing well and she had settled into life at the Post Office for the past year, the rest of her existence was in tattered shreds. She had no friends, no social life, no boyfriend or husband now that Tom was out of the picture...no sex life. 

It was hard not to think about how different reality was from where she wanted it to be. She didn't eat. She didn't go out or have fun. When she slept, her slumber was wracked with nightmares. So daydreams were her retreat, was that really so bad?

Liz stayed up far later than necessary, long after the warmth of her lengthy, steam choked shower had worn off, leaving her feeling cold and empty. Silky purple sheets welcomed her into the gaping maw of her unmade bed and she savored the rustle of fabric around her body. Her laptop and a few books and notebooks were scattered atop the comforter and her fingers massaged the keyboard well until midnight. When she should've been sleeping, Red began slipping into her thoughts and she felt a familiar warmth unfurl between her legs. With a groan she pressed her thighs together and tried to push thoughts of him away. 

The buzz of her phone startled her and she reached for it. With a sigh she read the latest text message before chucking her phone clear to the other side of the bed. It was a guy she had been talking to, the result of another unsuccessful attempt to date. It only frustrated her further. Very few sane men would put up with her work schedule. Once she weeded out the married, the liars, the unintelligent, the flat out gross...very few remained.

With a huff, Liz continued down the rabbit hole of the internet, until the screen projected things that weren't exactly PG. She seemed to go through cycles of intense horniness, and now was one of those times. Sometimes she'd give into it, pulling a toy and some lube out of her nightstand drawer, and other times she'd try to ignore it. When Liz attempted to ignore it, the urges would slip into her dreams and she would have orgasms in her sleep. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing...and at 29 it still blew her mind that without even touching herself she could have earth-shifting orgasms. 

Now it was closer to 12:30 in the morning and Liz finally caved to her urges for relief. She let herself imagine Red standing over her in that fucking three piece suit, stripping her of her clothes while he remained shielded in his luxurious fabric armor, growling obscene things as he hooks large hands behind her knees and drags her to the edge of the bed so he can savor her sex like one of his fine Italian wines. There would be no more room for lengthy anecdotes or poignant monologues, just clashing teeth and desperate need...their fury and tension and arguments dissolving into long awaited action. 

It was always her who was vulnerable. It was always Liz who was at his mercy to either be let in or be treated like a child and turned away. She was powerless to him, giving up secrets and emotions while he remained a stoic, untouchable, in-admitting figure. She was at a constant disadvantage with him, but that's not how it would be in bed. For as rock solid as he portrayed himself, she knew how to climb between that brick and mortar. 

Stripping off her fuzzy pink robe, Liz got comfortable, her eyes fluttering shut, busy imagining. She would kiss him fiercely, and then languish in the experience, exploring him with her mouth and memorizing his taste, the noises he'd make, the ministrations of his hands. Liz wanted his pulse beneath her lips, the scrape of her teeth along his neck...maybe she'd bite his collar bone while grinding against his erection. She wanted everything. She'd let him do anything...which is saying a lot for someone who labels herself a control freak.

How sweet it would be to breathe in his cologne, to pepper his body with exultant kisses, to feel the salty weight of his erection on her tongue, her lips wrapped around his cock as she swallowed him into her throat. Shit...she wanted to taste him so bad, she wanted to drink his cum and feel him move inside of her. The thought of an out of control Red, jerking helplessly as his orgasm threatens to undo him, was enough to make her moan. 

Liz sighed loudly into the quiet stillness of her room and spread out her petal soft pale skin against the dark sheets. It felt like she'd been perpetually wet for a week and now her fingers could finally circle the silky rose pink flesh. Unearthly...insanely soft...nothing could compare to how incredible her sex felt. Her lips were swollen, pulse quickening beneath her fingers, breasts moving with her chest which was dragging in uneven breaths. No toys this time, just her fingers, twisting and curling inside of her until they hit that magical spot that sometimes gave her four or five orgasms in a row.

Energy vibrated off her body. It was etherial. God, Red was so missing out...

His mouth should be on her, tongue dancing around her hole, lapping up her arousal, kisses planted and lips sucking on her clit. She'd let him tie her up...keep her on her knees...hell, she'd even let him fuck her ass if that's what he wanted. 

The orgasm drew from every corner of her body, shaking through the muscles of her legs as it travelled to her core. Her cunt pulsed and vibrated and clenched around her fingers in an uncontrolled spasm that would have felt amazing wrapped around Red's cock. Fuck, she wanted him to fill her up, to push her to the edge of insanity.

Jaw slack and eyes hooded, she came hard, rocking into her hand and saying Red's name. If only he were there to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day at work was nearly insufferable. Liz had gotten very little sleep and that fact threatened to reveal itself through the dark bags beneath her eyes. There was no room for error at work, especially running with Red. One delayed reaction, one misspoken word, one miscalculation and she'd be dead. She was starting to wonder if that would be such a bad thing. In fact, it scared her just how "not scary" that possibility sounded.

It was getting old, feeling like Red's puppet. Revealing to him every corner of her life and soul only to get nothing but stoic silence in return. Sometimes she just wanted to shake him...or scream at him...or drag the truths to her unanswered questions from his lips through whatever means necessary. 

She'd thought about that a little too often...what it would be like to tie him up, to force drugs into his system, to saturate him with truth-inducing substances, gathering him up like a washcloth and wringing him in her bare hands until all of his secrets splashed to the floor. 

"Lizzie," he spoke the word softly but it still filled the cabin of the SUV. She turned to look at him, startled out of her daydream world, eyes wide. He furrowed his brow, as if in doing so he would magically be able to see into her mind and read her thoughts. Well-worn concern flitted over his features and he rubbed a hand over his own knee. 

"Penny for your thoughts?"

The question pissed her off. Why should she offer anything, yield anything, when he was so unyielding? Closed tighter than a locked door with a thousand dead-bolts. 

"Let's just get this over with," she shot back, a glint of something unfamiliar in her eyes. Was it anger? Determination? Focus? Whatever it was, it had a hard edge to it, like the burn of whiskey or the blinding glare of the noonday sun. She practically radiated energy and Red knew that he was Icarus, inching closer and closer to the sun.

"Not thrilled that we're going on this little expedition?" he questioned, despite already knowing the answer.

He got a death stare before the verbal confirmation. 

"No Red, I'm not thrilled that we're about to reward a criminal...give him weapons in exchange for information."

"You have to give a little to get a little."

"Yeah, with some people..." she muttered under her breath. 

"What does that mean?"

Shit. He heard her anyway.

Awkwardly clearing her throat and praying for the car to stop, she turned towards him. 

"It means that there are some people whom you can give and give and give to...who never seem to reciprocate."

There was that edge again, it burned beneath her words, filled the car with heat. There was something going on, some meaning in between the lines that he had yet to figure out. The mission was his first priority, but now unraveling Liz's latest mystery seemed somehow more important. 

"We're here," the driver chirped in, pulling the black Cadillac over to the curb. Liz gave Red a wary look and popped the door open to get out. She much preferred the Red of her fantasies to the one sitting next to her. It was hard to fathom how he could overlook the fact that his many secrets were crowding the space between them, choking off whatever friendship or relationship or whatever it was between them, trying to breathe. 

Secrets kept popping up like jack-in-the-box toys, anytime she'd wind the crank to get a little more out of him, some new wall would be thrown up. The latest mystery came in the form of mummified secrecy surrounding time Red had spent in Namibia. She met someone from his past during their last blacklister take-down and she learned just enough from the encounter to realize that she knew nothing.

What pissed her off even more was the fact that she couldn't resist whatever illogical pull she felt towards Red. She still fantasized about him, she still orbited him like he was the sun and she was glued to his orbit, no matter how hard she tried to pull away. Maybe it was loneliness, or her failed marriage, or perhaps it was other things. His intelligence was admirable, his taste impeccable, his skill in the field unparalleled. 

But it made no sense to her, how he could look at her one moment like he worshipped her, and the next...wrap himself up in muted silence, offering apologies in place of the things he should be saying.

"I'm trying to be honest with you Lizzie," is what he had told her two weeks ago. 

"You don't have to try, you just can be..." she replied, arms crossed over her chest, fighting a sneer or a pout.

Along with a deep breath, Red had taken a long sip of red wine and looked at her with a pained expression. "I can't give you what you want Lizzie."

She mentally scoffed, knowing that he had no idea what she really wanted.

"I'm not asking for the world Red, just the truth. Why were you in Namibia?"

His jaw tightened, fingers wrapping around the glass a little harder, hard enough that his knuckles were whitening beneath the strain. "I don't owe you anything Lizzie. I give you blacklisters and the FBI lets me walk about, a free man."

"So that's all this is."

"Yes."

"Bullshit. You've been in my life since...forever...you chose me, you entwined your life with mine and won't even exhibit the decency to tell me why." 

"Maybe you don't need to know. Maybe it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," she stepped closer to him, despite the shiver it sent down her spine. Sometimes the glare in his eyes could be colder than the Arctic. 

"I don't trust you," he said finally. "No matter how close we are, you still work for the FBI, and I'm still a criminal. We are not friends Lizzie." 

She gulped but there was no spit there to swallow. His words sunk to some deep place in her soul, twisting until they hollowed out a decent size pit in her stomach. She never wanted to speak to him again, but information surfacing on a human trafficker forced her back into his orbit. A week later, he walked into the Post Office as if nothing had happened. 

She wanted to let it go, wash it away with showers, sink it in alcohol, bury it in unconscious sleep or lighten it with fantasies...but the reality was that his words echoed in her skull, bouncing around until the reverberation was unbearable. Liz struggled with feeling worthless, and had never felt it more than at that moment.

Now was not the time to dwell on their tangled heap of a relationship though. The sun had disappeared beneath frigid slate clouds and fall was giving way to winter. They had hopped out of the SUV and walked purposefully through a park. It was cold, so not many people were going on leisurely strolls. Still, it was a public place that offered just enough privacy.

As Keen walked side by side with a focused Red, she couldn't help but feel a prickling, sickly feeling in her stomach. There was no love lost when it came to gunrunners, but at least they were slightly more tolerable than sickos peddling people. To make matters worse, Red heard that the human trafficker had built a more solid enterprise on the backs of not only women, but now teens...children. It made her want to vomit. So if she had to give up some AR's for souls...she could do it. Although she'd secretly been working on plans to bring both ventures to their knees.

The wind blew fiercely, licking at the tails of her long black coat and threatening to freeze her face. Their target was already there, waiting, a look of cautious defiance on his face.


End file.
